No More Lies
by sophronia
Summary: Set four years in the future. Simon decides to tell his family the truth about himself, with Lucy's help.
1. The Big Secret

No More Lies

Note: Don't own the characters, but I do own this story. It's rated PG-13 for mature content. **WARNING: Contains homosexual themes. If this is not your cup of tea, don't read it.  **

Part 1. The Big Secret

Lucy Camden felt a cold blast from the air conditioning as she entered the door of the restaurant. For a second, she was blinded by the contrast between the bright sun and the cool, dim interior lighting, and she took off her sunglasses and blinked several times. Even when her vision came back, she still didn't see him. She glanced around, peering behind columns and hanging lamps until she finally spotted him sitting at a table on the shaded patio. 

She watched him for a moment, trying to guess his mood. He was slouching back in his seat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, hands folded in a little tent in front of his face. His heavy brows were furrowed, and he stared out at nothing with an angry, preoccupied expression. She knew him well enough to know that he often looked angry when he wasn't really, but still, his body language indicated that he was wrestling with a problem. All the student counseling she had done had taught her the signs. Plus, she noted unhappily, he had ordered a pitcher of margaritas, presumably for them to share, but almost half the pitcher was already gone.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head to hold back her blond hair and stepped out onto the patio to greet her brother.

Simon stood up and smiled when he saw her. "Hey Lucy, how've you been? It's great to see you!"

They hugged tightly, and he even pulled out her chair for her. "It's great to see you too," she said and quickly poured herself a very large margarita. She didn't intend to drink it, but she didn't want him finishing a whole pitcher all by himself either.

"So how is Jason?" Simon inquired.

Lucy still couldn't help but smile whenever she heard the name of her husband of just over two years. "He's doing really well at Celtech," she replied. "He's out here as their representative at the Biotech 2007 convention, and he's expecting to be promoted to head of the promotions group any day now. And he'll get a raise!"

"That's wonderful," Simon enthused.

"Yeah, and when I get my degree next summer, we'll be set," Lucy grinned.

"Set for what? To start popping out kids?"

"Jeez, Simon, you don't have to put it that way." But he was only teasing, she could tell. 

The conversation paused. Lucy felt the light mood pass, and whatever was weighing on her brother seemed to hang over the table like a shadow. She watched uncomfortably as Simon topped off his drink. 

When Simon had gone off to college almost two years ago, it had been a shock to the whole family. He had presented them with his admission as pretty much a fait accompli – he had apparently applied, been accepted, arranged for his own financial aid, and made all his travel plans without anyone in the family knowing about it, not even Ruthie. Their parents had been worried and unwilling to let him go so far from home, but his extensive planning had impressed them, and in the end they let him go, just as they had let her go to New York after she graduated from high school. But, unlike Lucy, Simon had never been back. He claimed that he needed to save his money and thus couldn't afford to travel, and at first no one doubted it, knowing what a miser he had always been. He held jobs that required him to stay over all of his school breaks; he had even arranged to housesit for vacationing professors during the summer. After a while, though, it had become glaringly obvious that he was staying away on purpose. No one in the family ever spoke about it, continuing to maintain the pretense that he was too poor or needed to work over his vacations, but everyone had realized it. For his part, Simon had continued to call every week without fail and send frequent e-mails, but he had never returned home.

Due to her husband's occasional business trips to the area, Lucy was the only one in the family who had seen him recently. A couple of times a year she and her brother would meet for lunch. Last year he had even managed to stage a surprise birthday party for her in the restaurant, saying that he felt bad for missing her birthday every year. Yet it had been just the three of them at the party -- her and Simon and Jason -- and she realized in retrospect that she had only briefly met his friends; they would be introduced in passing, and then they would quickly disappear. Simon had discussed his classes and his career plans and some of the jobs he'd had, but he never talked about anything more personal. It unnerved her to realize that she had allowed her little brother to become almost a stranger.

Simon made an effort to rise out of his gloom. "So how's everybody back home?" he asked brightly.

"Oh, the twins are so happy," Lucy babbled, knowing that they were stalling for time. "Their soccer team is number one in all of Glenoak, and they get to travel around and play kids in other towns now. Ruthie aced her SATs, of course, and now she's getting letters from every college in the country. Matt and Sarah and the boys are doing fine – he's working all the time, but he loves it. And Mary drops by every now and then, when she's on a layover." She leaned in and put her hand on his. "You know, they'd all really like to talk to you more. Actually, what they'd like most is to see you. Can't you afford to go to Glenoak just for a couple of weeks?'

"Too expensive," he replied automatically, removing his hand and taking a swig of his margarita. "Besides, I've got my job to think about." Avoiding her reproachful gaze, he hunched over in his chair and stared at the Mexican tile tabletop. 

Silence fell. Lucy wanted to say something, just to get the conversation started again, but she knew better. This was the time to wait people out, let them gather up the courage to say whatever it was they were determined to say.  She took a tiny sip of her drink to keep herself from talking.

After an uncomfortable amount of time, Simon abruptly said, "I guess I should just tell you what I wanted to talk to you about." He fidgeted in his chair, and at last sat back and looked her in the eye, his heavy brows scowling over the clear blue eyes. "Mom and Dad are coming out to visit. They're going to be here next month, and there's something that I really have to tell them, but I don't know how."

Lucy held her breath and waited. Here it comes, she thought.

"I'm gay," he said finally, very quietly.

Lucy could tell that he was watching her face, trying to gage her response. She carefully tried to keep her expression calm and neutral, even though a thousand emotions seemed to be rushing through her all at once. His eyes were locked on hers, and she could see his feelings in them: fear, and worry, and almost desperate hope that she would do or say the right thing. But what was the right thing?

"I know," she answered at last.

Simon seemed incredulous. "You know?"

"I kind of guessed," Lucy confessed. "It was pretty easy to see that there was something in your life that you didn't want the family to know about. I just put two and two together."

Simon leaned back in the chair, still carefully watching her face. "So, I guess you're not shocked. Or are you?" he asked.

Lucy ran through all the possible responses in her head. She didn't want to lie, but could she really be truthful without hurting him?

"I don't know," she said miserably. "I mean, I've been wondering for months what I was going to say to you at this moment, and I still don't know what to say."

Lucy took a deep breath. "We both know what the Bible has to say about it," she began. Hope drained out of Simon's eyes and the dark look came back into his face. "Wait, wait," she added hurriedly. "I'm not finished yet. Just hear me out. I was going to add that the Bible also has preaching in it that we don't follow. We don't keep slaves or beat our wives today, and in my comparative religions class we read a lot of very prominent religious people who think that we should change our thinking about homosexuality as well."

'Thanks for the Sunday school lesson," Simon said in the old snotty tone she remembered so well, "but what I want to know is, what do _you think?"_

"I'm trying to say that I'm not really sure what to think." Lucy said slowly. "Maybe if you tell me something about how you feel. I mean, you know, when did you realize it – that you were gay? When you were in junior high and high school, you went out with girls. You had that girlfriend, Deena."

Simon was clearly considering whether or not he wanted to tell her. This was obviously not a direction that he had anticipated for the conversation. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and started talking.

"It was in high school, actually," he replied. "Yeah, I went out with girls, but that's what everyone did. You know? I did it because that's what I thought I was supposed to do."

"Well, you sure did seem attached to Deena."

"I know. It's hard to remember now how I felt about her back then, but I think I really loved her -- as a friend mostly, though. We kissed and stuff, but I never was interested in anything else with her. I never even thought about it going any further. It was just, she's my girlfriend, this is what you do with your girlfriend. Then in high school, I  … you know, other kids were having sex and talking about it, and I wanted to know what it was all about. I thought that once I figured out what it was like, then I'd feel more … I guess …  passionate about it. Or maybe I just hadn't found the right girl yet, or something. That must sound stupid."

"No, it doesn't. Go on. What happened?"

"What happened was, I met a guy." Simon paused here and looked down at the table again.

Lucy tried to maintain her neutral tone. "Was this while you were still in high school?"

"Yeah."

"Was he older than you?"

"Yeah," Simon replied. "Not that much older," he added quickly when he saw the look that crossed Lucy's face. "It wasn't anything like _that. He was a senior and I was a sophomore, that's all. We had some classes together and we used to study for tests at his house and …" _

Here Simon's voice trailed off into silence. He stared morosely at the tabletop, not daring to look up and risk meeting Lucy's eyes. He guessed that she was probably trying to keep her feelings at this news under control, and he didn't want to have to watch her struggling with it.

After a while she said, "And how did you feel about … him?"

"It was completely different. I remember saying to myself, so that's why songs and poems and stuff are always going on about love. I literally couldn't think about anything else. And when I found out that he felt the same way . . . it was amazing. I guess I should have been thinking about sin and whatever, but I didn't. I was just so goddamned happy."

He caught the look on Lucy's face again. "Luce, I'm sorry, but it's the truth. We … I told myself that because it wasn't with a girl it didn't count, and we pretended to be just friends so we could be alone together and nobody would suspect anything. And then he graduated and went away to college, and I was so lonely and so confused. I was even going out with girls again, trying to pretend that nothing had happened, and telling myself the same excuses -- that I just had to meet the right girl and not think about him and it would all go away. But I was completely torn up inside, all the time."

Lucy softened at the sound of the pain in her brother's voice. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Who could I tell? I was absolutely panicking that Mom or Dad or, God forbid, Ruthie would find out. I was sure that they were suspicious and at any minute they'd be confronting me, demanding answers, and what could I say?" Simon paused to take a deep breath. Conscious of the pressure of Lucy's hand on his, he squeezed back gently, gratefully. "Anyway, I decided that I couldn't stay there, I had to get away so I could figure things out. I started collecting college brochures and typing up application letters on the school computers after class. I had a whole stack of them hidden in my closet, inside the lining of my old Matchbox cars case. I used to look at them at night when nobody else was awake, until one day I noticed some stuff moved in my closet and I realized Ruthie had been in it. I don't know what she was looking for, but I knew it wasn't safe to keep the brochures, so I threw them out in the Dumpster behind the school."

"Do you really think Mom and Dad would have freaked out over college brochures?"

"C'mon, Luce, would they have let me take off across the country to go to college if I hadn't already made all the arrangements myself? They wanted me to stay at Crawford, just like all you guys, and I knew I couldn't do that. So anyway, by the time I left, I was hoping that I'd find a way to work all my problems out and none of you would ever have to know about them. I think I still had some crazy ideas back then, like maybe I could try to change myself somehow."

"But there are people who say they can change gay people. There are case histories of people who have changed."

Simon glowered at her. "Do you really believe that?" he asked furiously. "Do you really believe that I'm just being stubborn and not trying hard enough to get myself together and be like everybody else? Do you think I'd put myself through something like this just for laughs? Or that it's some kind of crazy rebellious phase?"

Lucy sighed. "No, Simon, I don't believe that. You know I don't. But you also know that Mom and Dad will think that it's … a temptation, and you've just got to resist it."

"It's not just a temptation, Luce. Believe me, I tried to tell myself that same thing, over and over, but it doesn't make sense. It's so much a part of me that I can't just will it away. I can't help how I feel any more than you can, or anybody else. And I can't go on hating a part of myself, it just means I'll end up hating all of me eventually. That's how important it is." 

Simon slumped in his chair, still clutching her hand. "That's why I need you, Luce," he said. "When Mom and Dad come, I'm going to have to tell them. I can't keep it a secret forever. It's just about killed me these past four years. I know they're not going to be happy and it may ruin whatever relationship I've got left with them, but I've got to tell them. And I need you to tell me how."


	2. The Heart Knows

Part II. The Heart Knows

Lucy struggled to control the car as she navigated the freeway. Maybe I shouldn't be driving right now, she thought. But that was ridiculous; she'd only had two tiny sips of her drink. It wasn't alcohol that was confusing her, it was the conversation she'd just had, playing itself over and over again in her head.

Simon had, after all, drunk almost all of the pitcher. She'd had to drive him home. But first, they'd really talked, and many of the things he'd been keeping from her all those years had come pouring out of him at last. She heard about how he'd come to college and found that he hadn't left his problems behind in Glenoak. After months of being angry and ashamed and scared, he'd finally confided in a friend, and started talking to a local minister. Gradually, he'd found a circle of people who accepted him, and then he'd finally been able to accept himself. He'd even told her a little about boyfriends he'd had, one of whom, she realized, had been one of the fleeting friends that she met on a previous visit.

That had made her uncomfortable, she had to admit -- the thought that he might actually be doing things with other guys. Simon hadn't said anything specific, but she wondered. Her parents had always instructed that sex was a healthy and natural human impulse, but that it was meant only for a man and a woman -- a married couple, to be precise. Lucy was not so naïve that she didn't know there were many, many people in the world who felt differently. So, what about Simon? If what he said was true, if he really was gay, then he certainly would not ever be getting married. What if he was in a serious relationship – was it the same thing? It wasn't like he'd mentioned dozens of boyfriends or wild nights of debauchery. He'd always seemed too level-headed for that sort of thing. But as she guided the car onto the exit ramp, she reminded herself again of how little she really knew about him. He'd had two years to create a new existence for himself, completely separate from the family.

Perhaps she should have been stronger with him. Perhaps she should have told him that what he was doing was a sin and that he was damning himself unless he stopped. She wondered if she had squandered all the training and education that she'd worked so hard for. The first time she'd been faced with the opportunity to spiritually guide someone through a serious problem, she'd chickened out. 

Pulling into the parking space in front of her motel room and shutting off the car engine, she stayed in the front seat, thinking. The truth was, she realized, that she didn't believe it herself. She didn't believe that just being gay was a terrible sin. She'd heard the pain and guilt in Simon's voice when he described his high-school years. It broke her heart to think of him scared and alone, keeping his secret, desperate to get away from his own family. It just couldn't be right for anyone to feel that way. Now that he'd finally opened up to her about his life, he'd sounded more cheerful than he ever had, and even excited about the future. He'd talked about his friends with obvious affection, and he'd mentioned that he was still going to church. How could any of that be a bad thing? 

She remembered her days in high school. It had been so easy for a cute boy to walk by and drive every other thought out of her head, leaving her dazed and lovestruck; she could be happy for days and days just because someone she liked had called her up just to talk. She hadn't asked for those feelings or invited them to happen. One day she had been a little girl, unconcerned with boys except as recess pests, and the next she had been fascinated by them. If she'd been taken by surprise like that, why couldn't it have happened that way with Simon? Why would she think that he'd had more control over his feelings than she had? 

It was all about love, after all. Lucy thought. She thought about her love for Jason, and tried to imagine how she would feel if she could never have acknowledged it. What if she had been forced to deny it and ignore it? What if she'd never gotten any of the happiness that he had brought into her life?

Simon was no rebel, she knew that. He was not doing this out of some twisted sense of defying Mom and Dad. He had obviously struggled with this for quite a long time and had accepted that it was the way he was meant to be. Lucy realized that despite her concerns, she knew that he was right. Whatever she had been told about gay people, it was not a choice that they made. It was something that was a part of their deepest selves, and she needed to accept it.

She got out of the car and walked to the motel room door, unlocking it with the key card. Inside, it was cool and dark, with the sleep shade pulled over the window to keep out nearly all of the daylight. The freeway was a distant drone in the background. She lay down on the crisply made bed, pressing her face onto the fresh-smelling spread.

Simon had wanted her help, and she hadn't known what to tell him. How on earth could he tell Mom and Dad? She herself had had so much trouble accepting it, was still struggling to accept it. They would be even more shocked and dismayed than she had been. 

As she'd dropped him off in front of his apartment, he'd leaned in the car window and said, "Lucy, please, even if you can't tell me what to say, you've got to promise me that you'll be there when I tell them."

"I don't think I can afford to fly out here."

"Don't worry about that, I'll pay for it. I've got some money saved up." He blushed, but she didn't call him on his earlier lies about his financial situation.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't know what kind of help I would be to you anyway."

"It would help just for you to be there. Please, Luce, I just have a feeling that I'll need someone in my corner."

She heard herself reluctantly agreeing. Now, as she lay on the hotel bed with the air conditioner blasting cold air all around her, she wondered if she was crazy.


	3. Judgment Day

Part III. Judgment Day

Eric and Annie Camden sat on the futon that served as a couch in their son's tiny apartment, sipping at the glasses of lemonade he'd given them. Both kept sneaking quick peeks around the room, which was sparsely and cheaply furnished but extremely neat. Simon knew that they were trying to guess what he was like now by studying the things in his apartment, which they had never seen before, and once again he felt a pang of guilt at having distanced himself from them so thoroughly. He was determined to try to make it right. He took a deep breath and told himself, zero hour. Now or never, Simon, just spit it out.

"Mom … Dad … um … well, the fact is, I wanted us to come back here to my apartment before dinner because … um … there's something I … um … I wanna say. To you."

Oh God, he was screwing this up. He sounded like an idiot. He swallowed and tried again.

"Actually, there's something that I've got to tell you. Something important."

Eric and Annie sat and looked at Simon expectantly. His mother was smiling at him, and his father still had that I'm-proud-of-you-son gleam in his eyes. They had no idea at all. 

And with that realization, his courage failed completely. I can't do this to them, he thought wildly. I just can't. I don't know how they'll take it. What if Mom cries? What if Dad has another heart attack? Simon's own heart seemed to be pounding furiously in his throat; how would his father's weakened heart be able to handle the stress?

Then Lucy caught his eye from her perch on the barstool in the corner. "Simon, you can do this," her look told him, as clearly as if she had spoken out loud. He felt his determination come flowing back. He had to go on. It was too important. 

Closing his eyes, he said it at last. "I guess what I want to tell you is that I'm gay."

He opened his eyes. They were still sitting there in the same exact positions on the couch. Their faces had changed, though. He watched as the realization of what he'd said and what it meant played over their faces.

Panicking again, he blurted out, "The thing is, I've known this for a really long time. I know you're going to say that I'm too young to know for sure, but you're wrong. I've known for years, and it's not from going to school here, either, because I knew it before I came here. You're going to say that I might change my mind later, but I'm not going to. I've tried to change before, I really did, and the only thing I learned is that I'm not going to change. Well, that's not true, because I also learned that I don't have to change. So you see, I went out here to try to work through this without having to hurt everybody, and I've done it. Now I want to tell you, because you're important to me, and I don't want to have to hide from you guys for the rest of my life. And that's why I'm telling you now." His voice trailed off finally, and he slumped in his armchair, unable to look at his parents, waiting for them to respond.

Silence blanketed the room. Simon heard the ticking of his alarm clock on the windowsill and with each tick his dread grew. He'd blown it. This was going to be even worse than he'd expected.

His mother spoke first. "Well, thank you, Simon," she said witheringly. "Thank you very much for telling me exactly what I'm going to say about all this. I really appreciate you taking care of that for me."

From her corner, Lucy mumbled, "Mom, please …"

"You keep out of this, Lucy," Annie snapped. She turned back to her son. "The thing is, Simon, you actually haven't figured out what I am going to say about this. You haven't even come close."

Simon started to say something, but his mother just talked right over him.

"There's so many things that I'm angry about right now," Annie stated, "I don't even know where to begin. But I think I'll start with your incredibly insensitive lack of timing. The first time you see us in two years, when we've flown out to just to see you because we've missed you so much, and you decide to spring this on us."

"Well, I tried to explain that --"

 "But over and above that, you seem to have conveniently overlooked that fact that what you are telling me is wrong. Morally wrong. Were you hoping that I would be so dazzled by your logical explanations that I wouldn't notice that?"

"No, of course not. I don't know why I said all that, it just came out  --" He winced.

"Simon, are you pulling my leg?" Annie's voice rang off the walls of the tiny apartment. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"No! I'm telling you the truth! Listen, Mom, I know I'm not explaining myself very well, but –"

"No, Simon, you listen to me. This is not the way that I raised you. When I sent you off to college you were a good boy. You had values. And now you're going to come to me and tell me something like this!"

"Mom," Simon said desperately, "I still do have values. I'm the same person I've always been; it's just that now I'm trying to be completely honest with you, and I never was before."

"Simon, you don't know what you're talking about. I raised you to believe in God's law, and you know what God's law says about …"

"There's another perspective on that, actually. I've talked to ministers, spiritual people with a lot of learning about the Bible, and they say –"

"Oh, and you believe these _people before you believe your own parents? Is that what they've taught you at this school?"_

"Mom, if you'd just calm down for a minute and let me explain --" 

"This is no casual little disagreement and you know it. It drove you away from your family for two years already. But without getting into all that, I want you to tell me how you know you're . .  . that way. Have you actually been living like that for the past two years, while we were supplementing your tuition payments and sending you care packages?"

Simon said nothing. How could this get any worse? he wondered.

"Answer me, Simon!"

"Yes," Simon replied through gritted teeth.

"Well, I guess you're not exactly living by what we've taught you, are you? Your father and I have always taught you that sex outside of marriage is wrong, and none of your brothers and sisters seemed to have any problems with this."

"But it's not the same thing at all! You said that everybody has feelings, but we should resist temptation until the time is right, and then your feelings will be right too. But according to you, my feelings are nothing but wrong, all the time, and they can't ever be right! Why do I have this burden that nobody else has?"

"Why? Because we're talking about sin here!"

Very quietly, Simon said, "Mom, if you believe that being gay is a sin, then you believe that I'm a sin. Because it's what I am."

"That is completely untrue! Simon," Annie pleaded, sitting down again and looking into her son's eyes, "Trust me, I know that's not what you are. I am your mother." She was definitely crying now.

Simon felt as though he was trying to breathe around a giant ragged wound in his chest. "It's just not that simple. It's not something I chose or some sin I committed, it's me. I … I guess I can't really explain it any better than that."

Annie stood up again, raising herself to her full height. "Well, if that's the best you can do, I'm sorry, but you've failed to convince me." She grabbed her purse and fished around in it for a minute, finally pulling out a long, thin envelope. "I just want to show you this before I go. This –" she threw it down on the milk crate that served as a coffee table – "was a surprise for you. It's a plane ticket back to Glenoak. I was foolish enough to think that you might want to come back and see your family. But now I realize, you've got everything you need here. You've got your life all worked out, and you've got people who will tell you that what your parents raised you to believe is wrong, and living in sin is right. So I guess I should have saved my money." 

"Mom," Simon whispered, "please don't do this."

Ignoring him, Annie stomped over to the door and opened it. "Sorry, but I think I'll be skipping dinner tonight." The door slammed resoundingly behind her, and the three Camdens left in the room listened as her footsteps rang out on the linoleum floor in the hall until she reached the door to the stairwell and slammed it as well.

In the silence that followed, Simon looked at his father, who still hadn't said a word. The reverend's face looked more shocked than anything else. Simon stared desperately at him, wanting him to say that he understood, that Simon's words hadn't changed everything just like he'd feared they would.

Eric cleared his throat. "I think your mother has probably said everything I could say." He spoke in the clipped, angry voice he had always used to his kids when he'd grounded them. 

So that was it, Simon thought; there wasn't any reason to go on hoping. Now all he could do was wait for the scene to play itself out to the end.

"Simon, just because you have an excuse doesn't mean that you're right. I hoped that you'd learned that by now. You know very well that these feelings are misguided, and that you need to reject them. These are not my rules, they're God's rules. Remember that. You always did think that you had all the answers, even when you were barely old enough to talk." 

Simon decided to try one last appeal. "Dad, I know I've been lying to you, and I'm sorry. Now I want the lying to stop. I've worked so hard to try and get my life together, and now I've found a way to be happy and to be myself, and I really want us to be a family again. Can we maybe just agree to disagree for now? You know, just think it over, and maybe when things are a little more calm, we can try to talk about it again? I don't want to just end here, like this."

"No, Simon, I don't think I can agree to that."

"Oh." Simon hung his head so his father wouldn't see him trying not to cry. "Okay then. I guess that's it."

Eric Camden stood up and crossed his arms, facing his son, who was slumped down in his armchair, looking defeated. "Well, I'd better not keep your mother waiting any longer. I think you know that what you are doing is wrong. I can't punish you anymore, so it's up to you to do the right thing yourself. I really hope that's what you decide to do."  

The door clicked shut behind him.

Lucy sat frozen. The air still rang with her mother's angry words and her father's recriminations, and she felt consumed with shame and guilt. If she was feeling this way, what must Simon be feeling?

He was still sitting in the armchair, looking down at the floor. He stayed in place for several minutes, holding his back rigid as if he was warding off blows. Then she heard him sigh, and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the chair.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. "That went well, wouldn't you say?" he asked, smiling wryly. She could see that his eyes were full of tears, but he was trying hard not to shed them.

"Simon, they don't mean it. They're upset, that's all."

"Oh. I don't know about that. I think they do mean it. They certainly seemed to make that clear."

"No, you can't believe that," Lucy insisted. "You have to look at it from their point of view. You've been gone two years; now they come out to see you and they hear something they never expected. They're … surprised. You just have to give them time. They're not ready to accept it yet."

"So says Lucy Camden, eternal optimist."

"Oh come on, Simon. I know you're not as cynical as you always pretend to be. They'll have to talk to you again eventually. You're their son."

"Only because they haven't formally disowned me. They did remember to banish me from the house, though."

"Stop it, Simon! You can't think that way. You have to give them a chance. You knew they were going to be upset when you told them, just like I was upset when you told me, but you gave me a chance to get over it and realize that you're more important to me than … somebody else's opinions on what's right and what's wrong."

"Don't you mean God's opinions, Lucy? That's what Dad says, and he would know. Aren't God's opinions important to you?"

"How can you play devil's advocate at a time like this?" Lucy cried, feeling her own tears rising in her throat. "Look, Simon, you know that I follow my heart, I always have. And my heart tells me that no matter what, God would not want people to feel scared and alone all the time. God is not about making people hate themselves. I really, truly believe that. And since Mom and Dad are the people who taught me to believe these things, I think that sooner or later, they'll come to that conclusion themselves." Trying to calm down, she clenched her fists and took a deep breath. "I know I'm not saying this well. I'm sure, if you tried, you could find all kinds of holes in my thinking and pick them apart. You're good at that kind of thing, and I'm not. All I'm really saying is that I love you, Simon, and I want you to be happy. I can't put it any other way."

Simon was scowling down at the carpet again. She watched him as he rubbed the toe of his shoe against the milk crate/coffee table for several minutes, getting control of himself. When he at last raised his head, the tears were gone, and his face seemed more peaceful.

"Thanks, Lucy." He leaned back against the chair again. "Believe me, none of this is anything I haven't been over in my head a thousand times. I don't really know what to think of it all either. But I've found people who believe that you can be gay and still have faith. I'm trying to work it all out for myself." He sighed. "I just wish it didn't have to be so difficult. I mean, why me? Why do I have to be different? Sometimes I think it would be so easy to just pretend I am who they want me to be. Hide all the parts of my life that Mom and Dad wouldn't approve of. Live two lives and never let them overlap at all, just the way I've been doing here at college."

"But you can't."

"No, I can't. It hurts too much. I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere. I was hiding something from everybody, all the time." 

"Well, for what it's worth, I admire you for having the courage to do this."

"And I am really, really glad that you were here to help me."

"Not that I was much help."

"More than you realize. Believe me."

He was smiling for real now, and she smiled back, grateful that he seemed to be feeling a little better. He got up and collected the glasses that Annie and Eric had left half-full. She saw his face as he spotted the plane ticket to Glenoak that their parents had left behind. For a moment his expression grew stormy again; then he shook it off and picked up the ticket to hand it to her.

"Here," he said, "you might as well give it back to them. They can cash it in and use it for Ruthie's Stanford fund."

She smiled sadly. "Are you sure you won't even think about coming home?"

"You heard what they said. I don't think I'd be welcome. As you said yourself, I've got to give them time. Maybe it will help. And if it doesn't …" His voice wavered, but he swallowed and went on. "And if it doesn't, then I'll just have to find a way to live with that."

They held each other's eyes for a moment as she took the plane ticket from him. A sudden memory floated into her head, from the time when they were little and had stayed up so late they'd been sure it was midnight at the very least, hiding in the fort they'd built out of blankets and sofa cushions. They had talked about who was their parents' favorite child, finally agreeing that Simon was Mom's favorite and Lucy was Dad's favorite, and then they had sworn a pact not to tell the other kids because they didn't want to make them uncontrollably jealous. Sitting Indian-style, facing each other, on the living-room floor, holding their fists together, they had recited the special chant that bound them to secrecy forever. His eyes were the same fierce blue now as they had been then.

Finally, she turned away and picked up her own lemonade glass. "Are you still up for dinner? Because if you are, I'd like to take you."

"Oh, I don't know, it's been such a long day."

"Just something informal. Please, Simon. I really don't want to leave you alone, not now that I'm finally getting to know you again."

She could tell that he appreciated that. "Well, I guess we've still got to eat," he said. "But I'm paying. Is pizza okay?"

"Okay," Lucy replied. "But we're going Dutch. Still a pizza fanatic, hmm? I guess some things never do change." She grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.


End file.
